


I won't say I'm in Love

by splitskip



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Aerosaw is another OC, Crossline is dumb, Grimlock doesn't actually say anything, I wrote this in 2.5 hours while listening to I won't say I'm in love on repeat, It's written in first person, M/M, Misfire/Swerve is only mentioned, Other, The OC is sort of an outlier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 15:20:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18013388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/splitskip/pseuds/splitskip
Summary: Crossline deals with several crew mates who are very interested in his love life.





	I won't say I'm in Love

**Author's Note:**

> There's not much going on that isn't more or less outright said in the fiction. Background is there was an 'incident' at Swerve's between Crossline and Spinister. 
> 
> Also I don't write as often as I'd like (or share it, for that matter) so if you do read this, I'd appreciate any constructive criticism. Thank you.

In retrospect, I should’ve known that a closed door and the threat of a angry Decepticon wouldn’t of stopped any of these fraggers I now called my crewmates. I looked up at the sound of my door opening to one of my captains - Rodimus, of course, why would Megatron ever care - sauntering in, the grin on his face nearing intolerable levels of cocky. I frowned beneath my mask.

“How did you get in, Captain?” I asked, shifting from my seat on the edge of my berth to peer around his frame to watch the door swish closed behind him.

“I’m the Captain! Ultra Magnus has the codes to every room on this ship.” Rodimus replied, hopping up on my desk and leaning back casually on his hands. 

“Oh, so you _stole_ the codes?” I smiled, eager to tease. “I thought stuff like that was my job, Rodimus.” He huffed waving a hand at me. 

“Did not.” That was probably true. I didn’t know the flaming mech very well, but he didn’t strike me as the undercover type. I wondered who stole them for him. Drift, maybe? “Anyways, I’m here to talk about that little _incident_ at Swerve’s just now.” His tone dripped mischievous intent, and my field shifted nervously under my armor. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I told him, my voice steady. If it wasn’t a blatant lie, it would probably be very convincing. Rodimus ignored me.

“Spinister, huh? Don’t really know the guy, but somehow it doesn’t surprise me.” 

“You don’t know me either, Captain.” I grumbled, reaching up to my chest to trace a finger over my Decepticon symbol. “I joined at the same time as them.”

It was true. Rodimus _didn’t_ really know me, not like the Scavenger’s did - or Swerve, I suppose, ever since him and Misfire had started courting and I was always up to gossip with the small bartender. My esteemed co-captain was only here because he was bored and I was a new person to tease. 

Probably.

Rodimus was quiet for a moment, and I glanced up to look at his face. He seemed to be thinking, and it made my field bump uncomfortably against my armor to the point I had to allow it out of its normal pinned position. Something about the look on his face was beginning to spell trouble, and it set me on edge. My internal comm’s crackled in my audial as they went dead, but I ignored it as a slag-eating grin slowly spread across Rodimus’ faceplates. 

“Y’know, I will give credit where credit is due, Crossline - Spinister’s pretty hot, I wonder if he’s as good with his hands in the berth as he is in- ow!” Rodimus cut off with a wince, his hand flying up to cup his audial as I pushed my field out quick as lightning and reached it into his frame, latching onto the signal of his internal communications with practiced ease and giving a _twist_. They burst with a loud noise as they were disabled, and a part of me noted smugly that he might even have to go see Rachet to fix them.

He gaped at me with a furrowed brow, my field already tucked neatly into my frame, as I hopped off the berth, standing to my full height, which, admittedly, wasn’t much - built for reconnaissance and all that. I put my hand on my hip and smiled at him beneath my mask. 

“Captain, I’ll say it again. You don’t know me. Maybe you should do your research before you decide to go break into an ex-con’s room.” Rodimus had stood while I was talking, and I tilted my head up to look him in the optics. His mouth was twisted into a frustrated expression, and he looked like he _very_ much wanted to say something, but I beat him to the punch.

“By the by, if you don’t leave, I’ll send a nice little message to Ultra Magnus about you digging through his stuff in order to breach the privacy of the crew.” I let my field slink out to press against his so he could feel how serious I was - not like he had a comm for me to offline by doing so. He growled, weighing his options for a moment, but in reality it took him barely a nanosecond to make his exit, yelling profanities at me on his way out.

I walked over to my door, pressing the button next to it to close it and leaning my forehead against the icy chill of the metal. I reached up, fiddling with the multiple locks on my face to remove my mask, letting it drop to the floor with a clatter and letting out a heavy sigh. 

Great, now I couldn’t stop thinking about Spinister using those big, steady fingers of his for something else besides surgery. 

* * *

Somehow, I had thought that was the last of it. The Scavengers knew me though, unlike Rodimus, so they (or rather, Misfire and Fulcrum) had made sure to catch me at the _best_ possible time for a discussion I didn’t want to have.

I exited Ultra Magnus’ office, finally finished giving my report of the few events that had occurred during the patrol shift I’d been scheduled for. Nothing really noteworthy had happened, but because it was Ultra Magnus, and he was _thorough_ , the quick debriefing had turned into a long, boring event, and it was late into the crews regular sleep cycle when I was finally dismissed. 

Primus, the mech could talk. 

I walked down the hallway to my hab suite, pedes dragging against the ground. I wasn’t exhausted yet, but I was certainly getting there. Idly, I thought about how nice it would be if I was sharing a room with Spinister. Maybe he’d be asleep already, and I could remove my mask and curl up against his bigger frame on the berth, falling into recharge next to him. Give me a reason to sit through Ultra Magnus’ speeches besides just doing my duty. A smile tugged at my faceplates beneath my mask, and my field jittered warmly beneath my plates like a constant companion. 

Footsteps - multiple, from the sound of it - came up behind me, and I lowered my wings enough that I could glance over my shoulder without them obstructing my view. Fulcrum and Misfire were coming up behind me at a jog, and I stopped to let them catch up, my wings perked.

“Hey guys! I feel like I haven’t see you in forever, what’s up?” I asked, shoving my fatigue away in favor of catching up with my friends. 

Misfire’s typical slick smile made his way onto his face, and he opened his mouth, but Fulcrum beat him to it, reaching out to briefly touch my upper arm in greeting. 

“We wanted to talk to you about Spinister, Crossline.” I bit back the frustration I immediately felt when I heard that. They were my friends, so logically I had no reason _not_ to talk to them. Spinister was their friend, and they both enjoyed a good time, so this was probably going to be a discussion more along the lines of what Rodimus had wanted. 

I rolled my shoulders, attempting to look the picture of vaguely interested ease. 

“Sure, what about him?” I asked, keeping my tone light, and Misfire snorted. I narrowed my optics, glaring at him playfully. 

“When are you going to ask him out?” Misfire asked, refusing to beat around the bush with me, and my wings fell, my glare becoming a little more genuine. He definitely noticed, but he didn’t see to care about the mood shift, watching me react with a raised optic ridge.

“I’m not.” I told him shortly. They were definitely going to push for an explanation on that, but I wouldn’t be giving anything away I didn’t have to. Probably. I’d been working on being more open about things, so we’d have to see. You weren’t a spy for about four million years without learning how to hold your tongue. Fulcrum put a servo on his hip, gesturing to me with the other.

“Look, pretty much everyone knows you like him-” 

“He’s practically swooning whenever the guy walks in the room!” 

“-so, why don’t you just talk to him? Spinister’s pretty stupid, but even he must have some idea by now.” He finished. I shifted my weight, my field jittering with more nerves than I would care to admit. Talk to him, of course, it was clearly that easy. 

“It’s not that simple.” I said nervously. “Look, I, appreciate this, but I’m tired and I need to get some recharge. Can we discuss this another time?” I asked, and they exchanged a look. A movement in the corner of my vision caught Misfire moving his hand in a tell-tale sign of manually accessing his comm’s, and I reacted before I had even fully registered the movement, lashing out with my field to shut it down. The second I felt their comm’s go offline, I turned, running down the hallway. My field pulled away from them, hovering around my frame. This was _so_ stupid! Why was I even running? I turned the corner, closing in on my hab suite, already prepared to punch in my code and just get some fragging-

I ran right into Grimlock. The clanging metal made an awful noise, and I fell on my aft, reaching up to hold my aching head. Grimlock was built like a… something really damned hard. I looked up, squinting. He looked amused (I think, I could never really read him), and I realized suddenly what had happened. They had known I would run, the glitches, and set Grimlock here to ‘ambush’ me while they set off the trap. Clever. If it wasn’t _me_ they had done it to, I would applaud them. 

They came running up behind me, and I turned on the ground, glaring. They looked smug, and Primus if that wasn’t vaguely irritating. 

Misfire crouched in front of me, his expression shifting to something more concerned.

“Seriously, Crossline, why is this such a big deal? You think you’re going to get rejected, or something?” 

I gave a deep ex-vent, trying to reign myself in. It didn’t work. What would it hurt, to try and explain? At least later I could blame what would probably turn into a rant on exhaustion and a head-on collision with Grimlock, right? 

“No!” I said, my frustration leaking into my tone. “Yes. I don’t know! It’s complicated. What if he accepts and then…” I realized I was still sitting on the floor, and scrambled to a standing position, trying to look a little less pathetic. Misfire stood with me, looking confused, and I caught Fulcrum opening his mouth - probably to ask what the scrap I was talking about - but I cut him off. 

“I don’t think you guys get it. I’m a _spy!_ Keeping secrets and keeping my distance is what I do. The only person I didn’t do that with at all was Aerosaw, and he _died!_ ” My voice was rising, but I couldn’t stop it. Everybody knew what a broken spark bond could do. It hurt, losing someone that close to you… and I had taken it very, very badly. 

“When Aerosaw died, I wasn’t there. I was stuck surrounded by the people who killed him, pretending that I… I can’t lose someone like that again. I almost died the first time, and I don’t know what I’ll end up doing if I get a repeat.” It had been a long time since Aerosaw died, and I still sometimes thought about asking that Chromedome guy to just… erase him. I thought of Krok, suddenly, and his dream of helping people. 

Show me someone ‘normal’ and I’ll show you someone who knows how to hide things. 

Misfire and Fulcrum didn’t look like they knew what to say, like they hadn’t expect this. Actually, they probably hadn’t. I pulled myself together, straightening my spinal strut, forcing the tension from my frame.

“So that’s why I won’t ask. If he came to me, I don’t think I’d be able to refuse, but… I’m not risking anything on a maybe. Sorry.” I gave them my best eye smile, turning on my heel. I patted Grimlock’s chest as I walked past him, glancing up at him. I wondered if they would stop me.

They didn’t. 

* * *

A week later, I was curled on my berth, mask thrown off somewhere across the room, my spark aching beneath my chest plates. This was another thing I didn’t talk about, the damage my spark sustained soon after Aerosaw had died. Not by my servo, but self-inflicted all the same. I missed my Amica. 

The stupid glitch just had to go and die, didn’t he?

I’d offlined my voxbox to avoid making any pained noises, and my field was rolling around the room - it was too uncomfortable to have it inside right now. Besides, it kept me from getting any unwanted calls. My optics were offline, letting me wallow in self pity without having to be distracted by any visuals. 

A knock on my door startled me, and I sat up quickly, onlining all systems and giving the room a quick scan for my mask. Unable to find it, I cursed under my breath in Vosian, opting to cup a servo across my faceplates. Another knock.

I rolled off the berth, stumbling to the door and jammed the button to open it for whoever it was. I didn’t expect for it to open to a large magenta chest, and I looked up into Spinister’s optics. I took a step back from him, finding him a lot closer than I had anticipated, debating my options for a nano-second before deciding to let him in. 

“C’mon in, Spinner.” I told him, and he followed me in, the door shutting behind him and leaving us alone. In the dark. In my room. Alone. My field was still filling the small space, my embarrassment and shy affection surely bleeding out into it, and while Spinister looked around the small room I attempted to pull it back beneath my armor. The action sent a wave of pain through my spark, and I almost doubled over.

“Not that I don’t love seeing you, but, uh, this isn’t a great time, Spinister.” I admitted, my free servo coming up to press over my spark in a fruitless attempt to ease the pain. He hadn’t spoken, yet, watching me in a way that would’ve felt calculating if this wasn’t Spinister. Why was he here?

“What’s wrong?” He asked, and I took a step back, my knees hitting the berth. I sat down, letting air cycle through my vents a few times. The pain was getting worse, Primus damn it. I kept my servo planted across my face plates, hoping it was doing an acceptable job of hiding my expression from my guest. 

“My, uh, spark.” I told him, voice laced with static, and he made a thoughtful noise, walking up to me and touching my neck cabling gently, running his servos up it in a way that made me shiver. I tilted my helm up to look at him, but his optics weren’t focused on my face.

“What are you-” My question cut off as he pressed on a wire below my jaw before giving it a twist, and a panel on the side of my helm slid open, his digits quickly reaching in and tweaking something inside. It felt odd, and if I didn’t know and trust him this would definitely feel _way_ invasive. The pain dimmed immediately, and I gasped in relief. 

“There’s a thing there that makes pain stop.” He explained as he closed the panel, and I realized he had manually turned down my pain receptors around my spark. With his _hand_. Affection filled my frame, sticky and warm, and this time I willingly let it pulse out through my field so he could feel it.

“Thank you.” I told him, and his optics turned upwards in a smile. 

“The others told me I needed to talk to you, about, uh…” He trailed off, though he didn’t look uncomfortable, just confused. “Courting.” I sighed then, reaching out the hand previously occupied with my spark to pat his abdominal plates, though I was careful to keep it a platonic gesture. Even though I didn’t want to. 

“People have been on my case about that as well.” I told him. “Can we talk about it later though?” His field pushed out, meeting mine. A suspiciously fond and sure feeling rolled from his field to mine, dripping through the cracks in between my plates.

He nodded, and I nodded back at him, a smile on my face, though he couldn’t exactly see it. My wings transformed to allow me to lay down, and I rolled over to face the wall when he turned away, listening to the sound of his footsteps walking away. Exhausted, I was already drifting into recharge, finally able to sleep now that the pain was more or less gone, so I barely noticed when the door didn’t open. Instead, I heard a quiet _clink_ , like something was being set down, and then warm, living metal against my back. I jerked, a large arm coming rest carefully around my waist, pulling me back flush to Spinister’s frame. 

“Spinner?” I asked, glancing behind me, my wings shifting. They were transformed in as much as possible to allow me to comfortably lay down, but the idea of them getting crushed between us seemed like an unpleasant experience. His arm tightened around my waist, and my HUD popped up a request to flip on my fans.

“Just in case your spark hurt comes back.” He said, the excuse flimsy even for him. I took a moment, thinking over his excuse, before I snuggled back into him, smiling widely. Hadn’t I been daydreaming something almost exactly like this a mere week ago?

“Alright, sweetspark.” 

Okay, maybe I _was_ willing to risk myself on a maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
